My Guardian Villain
Rating: T
Disclaimer: By the pricking of my thumbs, something crazy this way comes.
Author's Notes: I am so freakin' sorry I couldn't update until now. Too much crap to deal with. Skool was the brunt of it. So, here ya go.
Chapter 3; Branding
The room behind the black door looked like a boiler room. There was even a furnace in the corner that showed shadows dancing to their own beat. One of the shadows was that of a monster of a man banging away at something resting on an anvil.
Erol fanned his now-sweaty face, 'Why is it so hot in here?'
Purple, on the other hand, seemed undisturbed by the heat, "Hey, Green! Are you there?" she called out.
The hulking shadow stopped it's banging. "Purple? That you, lass?" yelled a booming voice, a strong Scottish accent present.
Purple grinned, "Yep! Come on out, you old coot!"
The shadow grew smaller and smaller until a large man came from around the corner. He was huge, towering over Erol and Purple by a few feet. A bushy, brown beard wrapped around his toothy grin. His bulky arm rubbed his shaved head as a habit. "Been a while since I've seen you, Pipsqueak," he said teasingly.
Purple rolled her eyes, "You always say that. Anyway," she pushed Erol to Green, "This is Erol. He's our new Guardian."
Green's eyes bulged, "Nah, you're kiddin' me!" He looked Erol over up and down. "He looks too thin."
Erol snorted indignantly, stood up to his full height and brushed imaginary dirt off his yellow and blue suit, "I'll have you know that that is not my fault. I have a high metabolism."
Green stared at him for a moment, then burst out in a belly laugh. "I like ya, lad!" he hollered, slapping Erol on the back. The force almost knocked Erol to the ground. "So, it'll be tha usual mark then?" he asked Purple.
She nodded, "Yep."
"Excuse me," Erol spoke up, "What do you mean by 'usual mark?'"
Green turned to walk back to his working place. He motioned with his hand for the two to follow him. "A mark is a tattoo tha' all Angels get when their time of duty has arrived." Green lifted a black poker from the anvil, "I suggest ya hold still for this, lad."
Erol gulped and froze his insides as Green lowered the poker onto his right shoulder. He stabbed the skin. White hot pain spread through Erol's body. Green pulled out the poker, revealing a black mark.
"Almighty Precursors! What was that?!" he hollered, clutching his shoulder.
Purple clapped her hands, "And you're done! Was that so hard?"
"Yes!" he stared at the mark. A pair of wings was smacked dab in the center of a circle. In between the wings was a symbol of something familiar.
"Is that the Oracle?" Erol asked.
Green nodded, "Aye. The Precursors are the big fellas 'round here."
"And they're so cute!" gushed Purple, "They're all fuzzy and huggable!" she let out a small squeal.
Green and Erol gave Purple a blank stare. She coughed, embarrassed. "Right, then," she grabbed Erol's arm and dragged him, again, to the black doors, "I'll see you around, Green!"
"Farewell, Pipsqueak! An' don't hurt yourself, newbie!"
The doors closed with a loud 'thud.'
